


My Love, My Idiot

by JennLynn77



Series: The Mind Palace Reprogramming [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Play, Angst then fluff then smut, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Important Conversations, Insecure Sherlock, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Mentions of Rosie Watson and Mrs. Hudson, Patient John, Sleepy Sex, Smut, Sweet John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 17:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13171719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennLynn77/pseuds/JennLynn77
Summary: “I mean it. I will kiss you and hold you and shag you every day if I can see the look you had on your face last night. To see your whole body blush, the sweat on your curls; to hear the throatiness of your voice and the sound of your pleasured cries in our bedroom. I can see myself, for the rest of my life, never tiring of seeing you or hearing you like you were last night. I just want the reason for it happening to be a little bit happier.”The morning after.





	My Love, My Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of The Reprogramming of A Mind Palace. It takes place the morning after part one. You won't fully understand this part if you don't read part one. Give it a try! 
> 
> I'm American and I did my best to fix American English to British English in terminology and spelling. I have no beta, so all mistakes are my own. Let me know if there's something I missed in the editing process.
> 
> I have a Tumblr if you'd like to come and say hi to me! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/johnyouareamazingyouarefantastic

My Love, My Idiot

 

‘ _Christ, he’s so warm_.” John thought to himself. John woke a few hours later to find that his body had slid from Sherlock’s chest to his right side during the night. Now, his sticky belly was pressed to Sherlock’s side, his right hand on Sherlock’s chest, above the remnants of Sherlock’s pleasured release. ‘ _We must’ve fallen asleep right after,_ _ **it**_.’ **IT.** The memories of what happened a few hours ago finally coming into focus in John’s sleepy mind. John kissed Sherlock’s shoulder softly and lightly ran his hand across Sherlock’s chest.

 

‘ _So soft, so warm_.’ John thought. ‘ _He tries so hard to appear unaffected by everything around him. He has no idea that those who know him and love him, know how incredibly kind and thoughtful he is_.’

 

John pressed his forehead against Sherlock’s shoulder and kissed his bicep over and over.

 

“Thank you, John.”

 

John was startled from his reflections and his reverence of Sherlock’s creamy, soft skin.

 

“What for, Sherlock?” John questioned softly, not missing a beat. He thought it best to act as though he had no idea. They need to have this conversation. Try to draw it out of Sherlock without pressuring him. Be confrontational, and Sherlock will turn over and away and the talk that needs to happen might never occur.

 

“For before, earlier tonight. What you did for me. It was, it was, um. Very nice, what you did. For me.” John’s face softened. If he could properly see his face, he was sure he’d see Sherlock rapidly blinking.

 

“Sherlock, I will do that for you every day if it makes you feel like you felt last night. **Every. Day**. I mean it. Whenever. As many times as it takes to get you to feel better in your own skin.”

 

“I doubt that will ever happen, but thank you for the sentiment.”

 

Shit.

 

“I mean it. I will kiss you and hold you and shag you every day if I can see the look you had on your face last night. To see your whole body blush, the sweat on your curls; to hear the throatiness of your voice and the sound of your pleasured cries in our bedroom. I can see myself, for the rest of my life, never tiring of seeing you or hearing you like you were last night. I just want the reason for it happening to be a little bit happier.”

 

Sherlock turned to his side, now face-to-face with John.

 

“I wish I could control the venomous things people think of me and make them unable to say them. My natural temperament isn’t really conducive to people having positive interactions with me. Until telepathy is a possibility, I don’t think your hope will ever become a reality.”

 

“Stop dashing my dreams, Sherlock.” John leaned forward, winked, and kissed the tip of Sherlock’s nose. He then placed his head on the inside of his arm. He pressed his temple against the soft skin there and nuzzled against it.

 

“I love you so much, Sherlock. I will literally punch anyone who says something shitty to you. I hate how some people think they know you well enough to make such broad judgments of you. Donovan and Anderson were the worst. Their jealousy of you being able to perform their job better than them was the root of their shitty behaviour. They were never privileged to see you like this. Here with me. Or how you are with Mrs. H. I’d love to see their smug faces **after** they’d see you give Rosie a bath and read her a story. Talk about a surprise. Most people are so unlucky, you know that?”

 

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow.

 

“Most people in this world don’t get to know who you really are, beneath your prickly exterior. They just see your coat with the turned-up collar. Your bespoke suits and perfect clothes. They don’t get to see you without your self-imposed armour. I should snap a picture of you in your pyjamas while you’re feeding Rosie breakfast and post it to my blog.” John lifted his arm, framing his words. “Caption: The real Sherlock Holmes. The man I am lucky enough to see every day.”

 

There it was. The blinking that made John weak. Christ, he loved him.

 

“You okay in there? John giggled. “Did I break you again?”

 

A few moments later, Sherlock replied. “You never cease to surprise me, John. Have I ever said?”

 

“Many times, love.”

 

This time, Sherlock quirked his neck.

 

“What?”

 

“Love? Are we doing endearments now?”

 

“Do you not like it? That just kinda popped out without me realizing it.”

 

“It popped out twice while you were trying to reprogramme my Mind Palace, if memory serves. I was a bit busy at the time, so don’t hold me to that.” Sherlock tried to appear nonchalant, but he failed spectacularly.

 

“Is it okay? If I accidentally say something like that to you?”

 

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be an accident.”

 

John’s eyes grew wide. “Really? You’re okay with it?”

 

“Just don’t get too teenager-y with it, okay?”

 

“Baby?”

  
“Absolutely not.”

 

“Sweetheart?”

 

“A bit saccharine for my taste.”

 

“Okay then. How about cuddle bear?”

 

A hard blink which morphed into raised eyebrows.

 

“Ha ha ha! Just joking, Sherlock. Relax.” John reached up and tucked a curl behind Sherlock’s left ear.

 

“Bee?”

 

A puzzled look.

 

“Sherlock, there are six books about bees in this flat. You’re not keeping any secrets there.”

 

“I’ve been contemplating keeping bees in our retirement, John. It never hurts to be well-versed in a subject before one takes it up.”

 

‘ _ **Our retirement**_?’ John thought.

 

“Yes, John. Our retirement. Of course ‘our’. Don’t be tedious.” There was no sign of a bark or a bite in his words.

 

John blinked a few times to comprehend Sherlock’s intention of growing old _together_. “It still amazes me how you do that...”

 

“Do what? Read your face? I’ve been doing that for the better part of eight years. You may as well have had your internal monologue written across your forehead.”

 

“I’ll do better next time.”

 

“No you won’t.” A wink.

 

John continues, intrigued by their conversation. “Papa?”

 

“No. That’s Rosie’s name for me. Don’t corrupt it with potential lewdness.”

 

John giggled at that.

 

“I’ve got one. How about frea...”

 

John did not giggle at that.

 

“Don’t you dare finish that word. Or even the rest of that thought process, Sherlock.”

 

“There is a bit of truth to it, much as I wish there wasn’t. You could always go with the old stand-byes: Sociopath. Addict. Asshole. Bastard. Weirdo. There is truth to the ‘addict’ moniker, John. I am addicted to danger. To puzzles. To many illicit and illegal substances. Although, I’d have to say, my most debilitating addiction would be you.”

 

Sentiment. From Sherlock Holmes. So lovely.

 

“I can help with the danger and the puzzles. And if I can manage to hold your attention a while longer, I would be proud to hold the title of Sherlock Holmes’ Most Crippling Addiction.”

 

“I should have that put on a shirt for you.”

 

“Indeed.” A knowing smile.

 

“How about ‘idiot’?”

 

“Since that’s what you’re being right now?” John raised an eyebrow in warning. There would be no more talk like that from Sherlock.

 

“I do so love it when you call me ‘idiot’.”

 

“I know. Why do you think I call you that so often?”

 

“Because I’m really an idiot?” Sherlock looked a bit wary of John’s next answer.

 

John saw the apprehension. Nope. Not tonight. Hopefully not ever again.

“Because you’re **MY** idiot. I’ve been affectionately calling you that for almost a decade, you clot.”

 

Sherlock angled his head a bit into his pillow, suddenly shy.

 

“Don’t hide your face from me. Let me see your gorgeous face.”

 

“Gorgeous?”

 

“Is that pet name on the table?”

 

“Hardly.”

 

“You are gorgeous, you know. Every bit of you. Even when you’re being a bit of an ass. But you’re my ass. Your actual ass is mine, too. Just so we’re clear. Figurative and literal ass. Both mine.”

 

John winked.

 

“I wouldn’t have you any other way, you know? You think you’re so awful, but I know quite a few people who think you’re pretty damn fantastic. Two of them happen to live in this flat, the smallest of the two loves you very, very much.”

 

“And I her.”

 

A quiet sigh from both of them sounded in their darkened, silent bedroom. A horn honked on Baker Street, signaling the stirrings of their city. A bit of orange and pink light began to peek through the drawn curtains.

 

“Come here, love.” John pressed himself closer, bringing his arms around Sherlock’s back, and squeezed him. He pushed his forehead against Sherlock’s throat, his soft, grey hair tickling under Sherlock’s jaw. He kissed Sherlock’s breastbone. He ran his right hand up and down Sherlock’s back.

 

“Upon further review of newly acquired data, I can safely conclude that I do enjoy you calling me ‘love’.”

 

John smiled against his chest.

 

“Noted.”

 

“Idiot is also acceptable.”

 

“Also noted.”

 

Sherlock slid his arms around John’s back and pulled him even tighter against him.

 

“I love you, John. So very much.”

 

John could feel the prickle of hot tears.

 

“I know you do, Sherlock. And I love you, too. More than I think you’ll ever truly understand.”

 

“I think it’s becoming a bit clearer to me.”

 

They held each other for a time, slowly drawing shapes across the other’s backs with their warm hands. The rising sun bathed their bedroom in pastel hues.

 

“John?” Sherlock questioned with a hint of uncertainty.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Could we… um?” Sherlock trailed off but made his question clear without words. He reached down and grabbed John’s right leg and slotted it between his thighs.

 

“You ready for another go?”

 

“I could be persuaded.”

 

“I think you’re the one doing the persuading here, Sherlock. Consider me convinced.”

 

A sleepy smile passed over Sherlock’s face. John couldn’t help but return it.

 

He readjusted his position and dragged his leg up a bit so his right thigh was between Sherlock’s legs. Sherlock loosened his hold, giving John a bit of room to move.

 

“How’s this?” John began to slide his thigh under and against Sherlock’s hardening length, gliding under his bollocks.

 

A sweet sigh came from deep in Sherlock’s throat.

 

“I’ll take that beautiful sound to mean it’s okay.”

 

“More than okay.” Sherlock managed to say through a breathy exhale. He tried to help himself along by frotting his length against John’s thigh.

 

“You just lie there, love. Let me do this for you.”

 

John put his right hand behind Sherlock’s neck and pulled his head down to his shoulder.

 

“What about you?” Sherlock asked.

 

“I’m fine just like this. I want to do this for you. Making you feel good makes me feel good.”

 

John felt Sherlock nod against his shoulder. He returned his right hand to Sherlock’s back and then slid it down to Sherlock’s bottom. He began to knead at Sherlock’s left cheek.

 

“I love you so much, you beautiful man.” He kissed the crown of Sherlock’s head and continued pressing kisses on his hair. He brought his left hand up behind Sherlock’s neck and pushed his fingers into his hair, while his right hand slid closer to it’s intended destination.

 

There was so much sensation. John’s thin lips on his hair. John’s left hand tangled in his curls, lightly scratching his scalp. John’s other hand massaging the cleft of his ass, sliding closer to his entrance. John’s muscled thigh sliding through the evidence of their earlier love-making.

 

Sherlock could do nothing but moan and press his forehead harder against John’s right shoulder.

 

“That’s it. Just let yourself feel this. Let me love your body like I love the heart and brain inside it.”

 

At that, Sherlock arched his neck away from John’s shoulder, exposing that resplendent neck. John pressed his right index finger to Sherlock’s entrance and then breached the tight muscle. He leaned forward a bit and began mouthing at Sherlock’s throat and under his jaw. Little licks and nips, driving Sherlock closer to his release.

 

“John...”

 

“I know. I can feel you getting closer. Let me hear you. Let me see you.”

 

“JOHN...”

 

“Just let it happen. Let it roll through you, love. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you. For the rest of our lives.” He pressed his finger inside with a doctor’s skill, grazing the sensitive gland there.

 

“OH. OH, JOHN!”

 

“Come on, Sherlock. Come for me, love. Let me see you!” Both of Sherlock’s hands came up to John’s shoulders. He gripped them tightly and came with a shout.

 

“Perfect. Oh, Sherlock. You’re perfect. My beautiful, perfect, love.” John slowed his thigh’s movements and removed his finger from Sherlock’s hole, not wanting to overstimulate him. He moved his hands back around to Sherlock’s heaving back and pulled him close, kissing Sherlock’s open mouth while he tried to catch his breath.

 

“Someone told me once that all bombs have an off-switch. When your mind starts ticking too loudly, I’ll do my best to find the switch in time.” John kissed Sherlock’s chin.

 

“You said earlier, last night, that you don’t know why I stay here with you. Are my reasons becoming clearer?”

 

Sherlock pressed his lips together, took in a slow inhale, his breath slowly coming back. “Crystal clear, John.” he managed.

 

They laid there together, drifting into a pleasant doze. They were startled by an incoming text alert made by both of their mobiles. John reached behind his back blindly, feeling for his mobile on the night table. Once located, he thumbed it to life.

 

“Lestrade. He’s apprehended the poisoner overnight. He needs us to come in and give our statements by the end of today.”

 

“What time is it?”

 

John squinted at his phone’s screen. “Half seven.”

 

“Can we lie here a bit longer? Shower, then pick up Rosie from Mrs. Hudson. Maybe take her with us and get breakfast after we go to New Scotland Yard?”

 

John couldn’t contain the smile threatening to pull on his lips.

 

“That sounds perfect, my love.” A chaste kiss. “My idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you got all the way down here, let me know what you thought! Kudos and comments are two of my most favorite things.


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